


Someone Like You to Call Mine

by tmvirtue



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Tessa and Scott get a little possessive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 13:11:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15950039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmvirtue/pseuds/tmvirtue
Summary: She increases the pressure of her finger on his chest as she traces her name, digging her fingernail in and her heart rate increases, her pulse pounding in her ears and sounding suspiciously like “mine”...OR Tessa gets turned on by seeing her name across Scott's chest in that Sorry shirt.





	Someone Like You to Call Mine

**Author's Note:**

> @tessa, @scott, and @god: pls forgive me.
> 
> Title is from "You Rock My World" by Michael Jackson.

The first time it happens is August 2014. Tessa's competing in a charity golf event and Scott has volunteered to be her caddie.

“Look, T,” he says, laughing and turns around, pointing to her last name in block letters across his back. He turns back to face her, grinning. She thinks she manages to keep it together on the outside, laughing at him and rolling her eyes at his sheer giddiness. On the inside, she tries to ignore her unexpected reaction to seeing him wearing her name. She'd felt it like a shock to the system, a thrill that ran through her whole body and she can't stop buzzing with the feeling, all the way down to her fingers and toes. She pushes it away, remembers that not only is Scott is with Kaitlyn currently, but Tessa herself has agreed to go out with Ryan again. The fact that one glimpse of Scott has her brimming with a heady mixture of contentment and desire, yet the thought of an upcoming date with Ryan fills her with a sense of apprehension is something she isn't quite willing to acknowledge or investigate at the moment.

She can compartmentalize with the best of them, so she's able to ignore the jolt that she feels every time Scott's back is turned to her so that she can focus on the game. She even manages to have a good time, mostly due to Scott's reassuring presence and his incessantly stupid jokes keeping her from taking it too seriously.

 

A year and a half later, and she's transported back to the memory of that day with perfect clarity...

They like to try on their final costumes separately and do a big reveal, and she's excited about this one. She knows Scott will like this new version of her Sorry costume. Mathieu's also given her a hint that he's got something special planned for Scott's costume and she's eager to see it.

“Ready?” His voice is a muffled sound through the door between them and she's filled with anticipation.

“Ready,” she answers and opens the door slowly, peeking around to try to get a glimpse of him before he sees her. He knows what she's doing and won't have it, so he pushes the door open all the way to see her fully. She takes in his all black costume in a cursory glance; it's typical for him but it looks good on him so she'll never complain, especially when everything is skin tight like this one is. She notices there's a bright pink image across his chest, but doesn't get the chance to really look at it. He wolf whistles in reaction to her costume and she laughs, spinning around so he can get the full effect.

“What do you think?” she asks, and then she glances down at his chest and sees it. Their names are emblazoned on his shirt, right under a heart in the middle of his chest. She gets that same jolt of desire she'd had at the golf event, but this time there's nothing stopping her reaching out to trace her name on his shirt lightly with her fingertip. His breath catches on whatever he'd been about to say as her finger makes contact with his chest and she sees his throat jump as he swallows and takes a step closer to her, heightening the tension she'd created unwittingly. She increases the pressure of her finger on his chest as she traces her name, digging her fingernail in and her heart rate increases, her pulse pounding in her ears and sounding suspiciously like “ _mine”_ as his breaths become shallower and neither of them can speak when suddenly a deep voice with a thick French accent breaks through their reverie.

“Well, how do you like it?” Mathieu asks excitedly, rounding the corner and just missing them jumping apart hastily. Tessa's grateful their reflexes have gotten quicker than that first time in 2008 when Marina had almost walked in on them making out in the locker room at Arctic Edge. Scott recovers first, gushing to Mathieu about how much they love the costumes and Tessa manages to join in somewhat convincingly before they retreat back to their respective dressing rooms to change back into their training clothes and get back out on the ice. Tessa remains keyed up throughout the rest of the training day and wonders how she's going to make it through the upcoming Stars on Ice tour dates and the competition season without losing her mind seeing him with her name across his chest regularly.

Every night that they perform the program, when Tessa first sees Scott in the shirt, she has to take a deep breath and exhales slowly, trying to focus and not get carried away. Their pre-skate hugs become laced with more and more sexual tension as the tour goes on, her body hyperaware of him, every point where their bodies make contact burning with the touch. They're in a good place in their relationship now, and though they've been sleeping together since they decided to come back, she wants something she's not sure she knows how to ask him for yet. It's that damn shirt, she wants him wearing it but she's self-conscious about her reaction to it for some reason she can't explain. She knows he'll do it for her, will probably be delighted at how much she gets off on seeing him in it, but she still represses it for now. The program becomes torturous, his hips rocking up into hers and his hands roaming over her body in ways Sam certainly hadn't explicitly choreographed as such. It cools down somewhat as they really gear up for competition, the gala performances not quite as charged as the tour had been, but her mind still reels every time her eyes first alight on her name on him, claiming him. The final performance of the exhibition at the Worlds gala is what sets her over the edge. Every touch seems heightened which leaves her skin feeling scorched with every lingering graze of his fingers.

She follows him to his hotel room that night and practically pounces on him before the door is shut behind her, unzipping his jacket and pulling it off as quickly as possible. He seems only moderately surprised, more than ready to meet her where she's at tonight. She grasps the front of his shirt tightly in her right hand while running her left hand through the long hair at the nape of his neck and scratching his scalp slightly before pulling him in and kissing him, hard. Their tongues tangle together until they're both panting, and when she pulls away to catch her breath, she glances down at his chest again. She traces her finger over her name on his chest again, slowly and with just enough pressure to drive him wild. Scott loses patience with her and kicks off his shoes while undressing her and she reluctantly removes her hand from his chest momentarily. He goes to pull his shirt over his head, and she reaches out, placing her palm right over the heart on his chest.

“No,” she says firmly, determined. “Leave it on.” His eyes flash with heat, but mercifully he doesn't say anything. He just kisses her while she unbuckles his belt and unzips his jeans while he walks them back towards the bed. She's fully undressed as she falls backwards onto the bed and Scott discards his pants and leans over her to follow her into bed, wearing only the T-shirt with their names on it, when suddenly he stops and pulls back, standing up. Tessa sits up quickly, feeling the loss of his warmth acutely.

“What?” she asks quizzically, her thoughts fuzzy with the strength of her desire for him.

“Wait here,” he says, his voice husky and deep, which sends a sensation of warmth straight between her legs.

“Scott, why?” she asks and hates how whiny it sounds, but she's desperate for him and can't understand what he's up to, she needs him so badly she swears she'll explode with it. He smirks at the whine in her voice and she can't decide if she wants to kiss the smirk off his face or slap it off. He turns and starts digging through his luggage hurriedly and she can't make sense of it, reminds him she's on the pill and they're fine, thinking he must be digging for a condom. “Scott, what are you doing?” she asks again in frustration when he doesn't respond to her questioning. He glances back over his shoulder at her, actually grinning at her neediness now.

“Patience, Tess,” he throws back at her, before finally standing up and walks back toward the bed with something she can't identify in his hand, some kind of dark fabric she can't make out. “It's a virtue, remember?”

“Oh god, Scott,” she rolls her eyes, somewhat distracted from the intensity of her desire suddenly. “That joke wasn't funny the first eighteen hundred times you told it.” He throws whatever was in his hand at her at that and she jumps back in surprise, finding herself holding a t-shirt of his. “What's this?” she asks confused.

“Put it on,” his voice has gone husky again, and her body lights up in response to it.

“You want me to put more clothing _on_?” she asks, utterly confused, until she unfolds the shirt he'd thrown at her and she begins to see it properly. The orange script across the front begins to clue her in until she can fully see the words “Moir's Skate Shop” scrawled across the front. “Oh,” she says as she reads it. “Ohhhh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he says, watching her intently as it suddenly registers in her mind. She's infinitely grateful that whatever weird possessive urge causes her to be fascinated by her name across his chest is one he seems to share. She raises up onto her knees, kneeling on the bed and pulls the shirt over her head, pulling her ponytail loose from the neckline. She runs her hands down the front of the shirt, smoothing it down over her body, the hem just skimming the tops of her thighs and leaving just enough to the imagination. She looks up to Scott and her heart jumps at the look in his eyes and her eyes don't know where to settle: the fire in his eyes, the broad expanse of his chest with her name across it, or the enticing sight of his cock, hard and ready just for her. She ends up not having to choose, her eyes falling closed as he closes the gap between them. He runs one hand lightly over his last name across her chest before burrowing into his favorite spot on her neck and ghosting his other hand against her thigh, slightly pulling up the hem of the shirt until his fingers are hovering between her legs. Her knees slide farther apart on the bedsheets, opening wider to allow him better access. He taps his pointer finger twice softly against where she's wet for him at her entrance, before agonizingly slowly dragging his finger higher until he's applying the slightest bit of pressure at her clit, just where he knows she's desperate for his touch. Her hips buck forward and her head falls back, and he redoubles his attention to her neck by scraping his teeth lightly against where her neck and shoulder meet.

She's so fired up for him, and not in the mood for his teasing that she lets out a growl when he moves back from her again to admire his name across her chest. He laughs lightly at her reaction, once again wearing that smirk she loves to hate. She grabs his shirt with both hands, and pulls hard, forcing him to fall down onto the bed next to her and jumps up to straddle him before he has a chance to react.

“Who's laughing now?” she smirks back at him as she presses her hips into his and slides her hands up under his shirt, scratching lightly up his torso and digging her nails into his chest. His eyes roll back as his hips meet hers, his cock making contact with her cunt in a way that has them both groaning in unison.

“Get up here,” he growls at her, grabbing her hips hard and pulling.

“What?” she asks, the motion causing her to fall slightly forward onto his chest.

“Up here,” he repeats. “I want to taste you,” he breathes out and pulls on her hips again, and she realizes what he means. Her core floods with warmth at the realization, but she's still hesitant. He goes down on her all the time, (she's almost certain he enjoys it just as much as she does) but they've never done it in this position before. She lifts off of him slightly and he scoots back higher on the bed, rearranging the pillows behind him and gestures to the headboard for her to hold onto.

“You want me to...” she trails off, uncertain.

“Sit on my face, yes,” he says, eager and grinning at her while reaching for her hips again. She bites her bottom lip, still reluctant, but climbs up to where he wants her anyway, acquiescing. “Unless you don't want to?” he asks, suddenly unsure.

“No, I do,” she assures him, always willing to put his oral fixation to good use. “It's just... I don't want to like, smother you or something.” He barks out a laugh, running his hands reassuringly up and down her thighs as she gets into position above his face.

“I'll be fine,” he says, his smirk returning. “And if not, what a way to go, eh?” For that, she lets her knees slide apart and settles herself onto his mouth without warning, raising an eyebrow and smirking back at him as he gasps against her, unprepared. She tries to lift herself back up to allow him the chance to get comfortable, but he wraps his arms around her thighs, pulling her back against his mouth with a groan. The motion causes his nose to bump up against her in just the right way and suddenly all thoughts of getting back at him for teasing her leave her head as he starts licking at her in earnest. He alternates the pace, constantly bringing her just to the edge and then backing off before she can find her release. She's gripping the headboard so tightly her arms are shaking when he finally releases his grip on of one of her legs, reaching up behind her to grasp at her ponytail and pulls hard, causing her head to fall back just as he sucks on her clit and her eyes roll back into her head as her legs shake and she lets out a soundless scream as the pleasure finally floods her body.

She falls sideways off of Scott and onto the bed, splaying out beside him. He turns his head and watches her as she comes back to herself, his eyes falling to her chest and the orange script on the shirt she's wearing. She smiles at him and meets the fire in his eyes with the heat in her own. He runs a hand lightly down her hip, checking in with her to be sure she's ready before he rolls over, settling on top of her and kissing her mouth softly at first before deepening the kiss until their tongues are fighting for dominance and she's positively aching for him to be inside of her. She bites his lip and grabs his ass hard, pulling him against her insistently.

“What did I say about patience, Tess?” he whispers in her ear and she scoffs, reaching down to line them up and joining them by pushing her hips up to meet his as she wraps her legs around him. He hisses in her ear before biting her neck lightly, just underneath her ear. She snaps her hips up to meet his thrust for thrust, and it's hard and frantic and just what she's been wanting from him since she first saw him in that damn shirt so many months ago. His breath is hot against her ear as he whispers between gasps for breath, “Whose name are you wearing?” and a thrill runs through her at the possessiveness in his voice. She knows what he's really asking: “Whose are you?”

She means for her response to match his tone, flirty and demanding, but it comes out entirely differently than she intended, soft, breathy, and sincere:

“ _Yours_.” He stills against her and she can feel the shift in the atmosphere and it makes her feel off-kilter, like the air is heavy with something she wasn't anticipating tonight. He lifts his head to look into her eyes and she almost shivers with it, the way he looks at her so open and clear it's almost too much for her. She loves him, loves that he's like this, so emotional and open in a way that's more difficult for her, but she's not in that headspace right now and can't quite meet his eyes. He starts moving against her again, slowly at first, but then picks up their previous pace, and she loves him so much for it. That he knows how she feels, can sense her trepidation but doesn't question it, just accepts it and gives her what he knows she needs in the moment. She's overwhelmed with the realization, so much so that she's not able to stop the words that spill from her lips next. “I love you.” Scott freezes at her words, pulling her close and kissing her softly, earnestly, and she can't understand his reaction, they've said this to each other a thousand times and in this exact setting among many others, but then suddenly she realizes-- has she ever been the one to say it first? He knows, she knows he does, how she feels, but suddenly she starts to worry. He hasn't said anything in response to her declaration. It's like he knows what she's thinking again and he groans her name into her ear, bucking his hips into hers sharply again and she's lost in the sensations until her hips start to stutter, losing all rhythm while chasing her release until she comes undone around him and he follows immediately after. He slides off of her and settles in beside her and she can feel his gaze on her, but she stares resolutely at the ceiling, trying to enjoy what they've just done instead of overthinking. He scoots closer and nuzzles his nose against her cheekbone before whispering into her ear.

“I love you, too, by the way. In case you were wondering.” She rolls her eyes at his mocking tone, but grins in spite of herself.

“I _was_ starting to wonder,” she says lightly, trying to tease him. “It took you long enough to say it back.”

“Tessa,” he says, matter-of-factly, and she turns her head to finally look him in the eye. He looks at her, and in a serious tone with his eyes wide and sincere says, “Patience is a virtue, remember?”

A laugh of surprise escapes her before she can stop it, and then she groans and shoves him away from her playfully. He's grinning widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners and he's so proud of himself he's laughing, the picture of pure joy at having made her laugh against her will.

“Shut up,” she says, shoving at him again as he tries to pull her closer, but his laughing fit is contagious and now she's giggling right along with him. She rolls away from him, feigning like she's going to get out of the bed. “You're insufferable, and I'm leaving,” she shoots at him over her shoulder.

“Noooo,” he reaches for her and grabs her arm, pulling her lightly back to him. “You _love_ me, remember?” He cuddles her close and runs his nose along her cheekbone, and her heart jumps.

“I do,” she says seriously, and she just wants to be sure. She wishes the affection and endearments fell from her lips as easily as they always do from his, but it just doesn't come as naturally to her. “You know that, right, I really do?”

“Of course,” he says, simply, like he can't fathom why she would ask.

“Good. It's just... I feel like I've never been the one to say it first, not really, and I just wanted--”

“Tess--”

“--to be sure--”

“Tessa, I _know_ \--”

“--just let me finish. I know I'm not as overly affectionate as you are and--”

“ _Overly_ affectionate?” he asks, acting shocked and placing a hand over his chest.

“Overtly!” she corrects. “I meant overtly affectionate, Scott!”

“Wow, T, is that how you really feel?”

“Scott, stop,” she laughs as he pulls a face like he's upset and then he's laughing at her desperate attempts to reassure him.

“You make me sound like a puppy or something, though,” he jokes. “'Overly affectionate,' eh?”

“Well, you do make a habit of chewing on plastic,” she points out. “And come to think of it... you do like to nudge me with your nose whenever you need attention and a cuddle, and you get more excitable around small children and animals...” He stares at her in disbelief, as she counts out her points on her fingers while he continues to act like she's just offended him deeply. She sees an opportunity and gasps, her eyes wide in shock.

“What?” he asks, brow furrowed in worry at her gasp.

“Scott,” she says seriously, like she's just had a revelation, and he waits patiently for her explanation. “I'm in love with an animal,” she deadpans.

He laughs once loudly, surprised, and now it's his turn to shove her playfully away from him for making him laugh unexpectedly. “You dork,” he says affectionately. “That's not even funny.”

“You laughed! At least I don't tell the same joke a hundred times over. 'Patience is a virtue,' honestly,” she shoots back at him, rolling her eyes.

“I'm pretty sure you laughed at that, too. Come on T, you know my jokes are way better than yours. Just admit it.”

“I only laughed at that because of the context, I was just surprised and you caught me off guard--”

“Exactly! The best jokes are all about delivery and timing, and you're just not up to my level, Tess, admit it.”

“What? Excuse me?” she says, mocking incredulity. “That's what made my joke so funny, the context and the delivery. That's what made you laugh!”

“Whatever,” he says, giving up and kissing her hard to distract her before whispering in her ear. “Up for round two?”

“Always,” she says, rolling on top of him and running her palms affectionately over their names emblazoned across his chest as he looks up at her in adoration, his eyes flashing with heat as he catches sight of his last name across her chest again.

 

It's almost a year later when she gets that same feeling again. They've won gold at the Olympics and now they're being recognized at a Toronto Maple Leafs game. Scott's giddy with excitement the whole time, and then they're given jerseys with their last names across the back and she meets his eyes and knows his mind is in the same place hers is. They're going to have so much fun in those jerseys tonight...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Y'all know their pillow talk would absolutely consist of dragging each other & joke analyzation, don't @ me.


End file.
